Paris sleeps. A giant silence
climbs down to occupy every crack
between tile and brick. Cats and birds
are quiet. I keep watch.

August without claxon. I survive
alone, maybe. I hold in my arms
like Sainte Geneviève my city
peeking out of the cape, in a corner of the painting.

[Original Italian by Maria Luisa Spaziani, ‘Parigi dorme’.]